


asking for a friend

by urfriendlyneighborhoodpan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, First Date, yeah that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9821582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan/pseuds/urfriendlyneighborhoodpan
Summary: He wants to kiss her, this much he knows for sure.





	

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr asked for akayachi, so. here's this

“Oh, I know it’s a little sudden,” he says, kicking up some dirt. “But, uh… A friend…of a friend asked me to…ask  _you_ …”

It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be here, this scowl pulled over his features and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He can’t quite make eye contact, staring hard at the wall and scattering sighs whenever possible. There isn’t much time left in the day, the sharp bite of hunger has settled here and every second spent waiting for him to finish is another much rather spent anywhere  _but_  here. “Spit it out.”

“This girl, she,” a pause, in which he squints needlessly at the space just overhead. “This girl likes you.”

Akaashi isn’t entirely sure how to respond. He has gotten confessions before, but, none like this. The friend of a friend of a friend  _asking for her_ , he’s not sure how to feel about this. It’s never been so convoluted, these things have only ever been straightforward. He thinks maybe he prefers that, it makes the process of rejection easier. Less complicated. And that is, he knows, how this will end. Akaashi has never had a girlfriend, and as things stand he hasn’t very much the time to. He can only divide his attention so much, anymore he thinks he’ll snap.

He considers this, glancing idly toward the cracks in the pavement by his feet. The line of ants marching from one space to the next.

There’s an exam next week he should be studying for; yesterday, he had spent an extra hour at practice and had to skip breakfast this morning in his hurry to make the bell. Again, his stomach twists with hunger.

“She doesn’t know we’re telling you,” the other boy continues, scratching at the gnarled curls atop his head. They flicker a strange yellow in the setting sun, there’s a chance he’s never brushed it once in his entire life. “Actually—honestly—she told us not to.”

Akaashi blinks, this fetters through him weightlessly. “Then why did you?”

A beat passes, and this time his sigh is filled with meaning. “She’s a good person.”

.x.

There isn’t much to be said about her, at first glance she’s easy to miss. Between the tall and gangly bodies of her awkward, bumbling boys she is nothing more than a little shadow passing in between. She’s tiny, in every way that can possibly count. These small hands and their small fingers, doe eyes colored soft and timid and framed with stringy wisps of sunny blonde hair. She stammers and stumbles and struggles to attend to these boys, too loud and too clumsy around her. And how easy it is to see how much they cherish her, turning kind smiles and even kinder eyes down toward her as she presses plush towels against their too big hands, as she mumbles her worries to deaf ears, as she tugs at their sleeves and softly, so softly reminds them to  _take a break, please just this once you’re pushing yourself too hard!_

She’s pretty, Akaashi thinks. Everything around her is colored in pinks and blues and sunflower yellows. Her voice strains toward a squeak and her face, it turns this nice shade when she’s nervous.

And she’s nervous, won’t quite look him in the eye.

“I was wondering,” he says, betraying nothing—there, across the way, this pair of golden eyes follow him, apathetic; he can’t tell who’s the friend, or the friend of the friend, the reason this all came to be, but he knows that they know why he’s here; there’s no point in opening this particular can of worms in front of her. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date.”

“I – I…” She flutters her fingers through the air and today, he thinks, is a rather good day. “I… O – Okay.”

.x.

The perfume she wears reminds him of candy. Her hair looks like silk, the clips this time are dotted with white. Maybe it’s supposed to be special; he doesn’t ask, but he can’t stop looking at them. She smiles with her lips, and shares with him her drink.

People are staring, he gets that. He doesn’t like the extra attention but it’s only natural. They don’t fit together, she is pretty and sweet and soft at the edges. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn this shirt, maybe he should’ve asked her what she’d be wearing so he could’ve matched somehow. He doesn’t have those shades of blue, he doesn’t have her sunny complexion. Maybe he couldn’t pull it off even if he tried.

Her voice breaks sometimes, but she keeps real close. Doesn’t let the conversation drop awkwardly when they run out of things to say.

He likes that. Maybe the quiet he sometimes seeks has no place, here.

The hours slip through his fingers, she leads him deeper into the city and he hasn’t been to this corner before. He’s never seen these trees or these stores or the people inside of them. He’s never known what the food tastes like on this side—before he knows it, they’re leaned together on a park bench and the sun is deciding to set. She tells him about some movie she’s seen recently, and the way the theater smelled that day. He pictures himself, fingers laced between hers, and wonders if he isn’t moving too quick. If he isn’t getting ahead of himself.

This whole day, he hasn’t been able to stop looking at her. He hasn’t been able to stop listening, her voice split, strained in the middle. Her hands shake when he stares too long, her words wobble, her whole face paints itself red.

“Do you,” she asks, breath caught, small fingers twisting into the hem of her shirt. “Do you want to watch a movie together—some day?”

“Why not tomorrow?” he asks, and her composure crumbles entirely.

Sundown colors her eyes like honey, curls about her cheeks and dips her golden. He wants to kiss her, this much he knows for sure. The gloss has rubbed from her lips—maybe the food they’d eaten earlier, maybe the slide of her tongue nervously wetting them over and over—and he has ingrained her perfume in his memory so deeply he kinda regrets it. He can hardly pick it up anymore.

Today is a good day, he thinks. Today went way better than he could’ve imagined.

“O – Okay,” she mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I – I wanna go tomorrow.”

“It’s a date, then,” he says, and she smiles shakily.

.x.

That night, he settles into bed too early and his heart is pounding, he is so restless for morning to come.

Akaashi regrets not kissing her.

.x.


End file.
